Fake Smiles And Silent Brothers
by Emrys1411
Summary: "It was the silence that scared Bones." After facing unimaginable torment at the hands of the Su'ille, Jim's beyond lost and it seems like no one can save him. Bones/Jim friendship. Fatherfigure!Pike. Warning for swearing. DISCONTINUED.
1. Those Dead Eyes

Warning: Two swear words.

I don't know where this came from, but I fell in love with the 2009 film and the friendship Bones and Jim had (in the original series anyway) so I wrote this. One-shot, most likely. Sorry for any mistakes, I'm no Star Trek fan so this is probably all very inaccurate :)

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><p>"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never gone." -<em>Rose Kennedy<em>

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><p>It was the silence that scared Bones.<p>

The way Jim, his Captain, his friend, his _brother_ by all but blood was incredibly quiet.

So quiet, you wouldn't have noticed he was there. That was the problem.

It was so very unlike James T Kirk.

But it wasn't just him. It was all the surviving crew members who were held at the hands of the Su'ille. For three days. Seventy two hours. But it seemed like so much _longer_.

No one knew what happened on that planet, in that base, except them, of course. And no one was talking about it. Jim spoke at least; he answered any questions directed at him (except the ones asking about what happened during those days) and faked smiles when others were looking at him.

That was something, Bones mused.

Others, like Dean or Azeri or Queenie, didn't speak at all. Damn, even Cupcake hadn't uttered a sentence. Not a word. Not a single _fucking_ one.

There were no excuses, no reassurances.

No nothing.

And it terrified Leonard. Right down to the bones.

It was a Wednesday afternoon when Bones decided to confront Jim.

The Captain had been injured by those bastards, quite severely in fact and it was only a few days later that he was allowed out of bed. Except, all he did was sit there instead, staring blankly at the white walls of sickbay, expressionless and breathing just enough to stay alive. But no more. So Bones had sent him back to his own room, in the vain hope he'd be at peace there. That the familiarity of 'home' would help. Except, it didn't.

"Jim."

Bones received no answer for a few minutes, but slowly, hesitantly, the young man turned his way and glanced at the doctor with those beautiful blue and yet so very _dead_, eyes.

"Jim, I need you to tell me what happened down there."

Jim visibly paled, if that was possible considering his current, milky complexion. But he said nothing as usual, just looked at the wall again and retreated back within the mental barriers he'd set up for himself.

It always ended the same way.

So Bones decided to call Pike. He could get through to Jim, he always could. Then again, it had never been this bad.

When the concerned, aged face of Admiral Pike appeared on the screen, McCoy swallowed nervously and told the man what had happened.

Chris was livid, furious that no one had told him, angry that he was stuck on Earth while Jim was being tortured beyon imagine by some alien race that slaughtered their slaves when they were finished with them. Their _human_ slaves.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me sooner?"

"We've…been busy, sir." That was true at least but McCoy felt like a liar. The real reason he hadn't called Pike was because he was just as scared as Chris now was. By telling the man, he was admitting it was _real_. Admitting that he hadn't protected his friend. Admitting he had _failed._

"Busy? Busy?-" But Pike cut off and rubbed his face with his shaking hands, "Let me speak to him. Now."

"He's barely talking-"

"_Now_, McCoy." And that tone of voice, that darkening of the older mans eyes made Bones immediately transfer the call on his PADD to the screen in the Captains room.

"Wait a minute then."

Leonard walked back into Jim's room, where he still sat perched on his bed in nothing but a pair of black boxers and his old, red academy shirt. The twenty-four year old shifted away a little when Bones got beside him and began to straighten out his friends wrinkled shirt.

"Pikes on the comm," Bones said quietly, nervously, "he wants to speak with you."

"Why?" It was a question, but Jim's voice contained so little emotion, it barely registered as a question. It was a response, at least. A sign that Jim was listening, that he hadn't abandoned the world he knew completely like the others had.

"He cares about you."

When Jim ignored him, Bones began to smooth down the young man's wild, dark golden hair until he looked a little bit more presentable. A little bit more _alive_.

"Computer, patch through incoming call from Admiral Pike to Captain Kirk."

"Yes, Doctor McCoy." The automated voice replied and the startled face of Pike once again materialized on the screen beside the door. Thankfully, Jim turned to face him rather quickly.

Leonard left quietly before either of the others had spoken.

Jim wasn't sure what to say. There was nothing _to_ say. He didn't want to see Pike. No, _Chris. _They were too close to refer to each by surnames.

Except at that moment, Jim didn't care. He just wanted to forget what happened and if that meant forgetting everyone who loved him, everyone he loved, then so be it.

That's what he'd do.

"Jim," Pike sighed, taking in the sick appearance of his favourite Captain, the young man he looked upon as a son of sorts. "Oh, God, son, how are you feeling?"

Jim replied in the same, dead tone the computer used. "I'm fine."

That was a lie. Obviously.

"Jim, you…" Pike cleared his throat, "you can talk to me and you know that."

James T Kirk almost smiled at that. _Almost._ He didn't know that, not anymore. Where the hell was Pike when he and the rest of them were being subjected the things so cruel, Jim didn't think they could possibly be real? Where was Bones?

No, that wasn't fair, he knew it.

If they could have helped, then they would have.

As Spock would say, it was 'logical'.

"I know that." Jim repeated absently, his eyes strangely vacant, distant. It wasn't like a Vulcans eyes. It wasn't like Jim had no emotions. It was like he had no _soul_.

There was a long, empty silence.

"I'm coming over there, Jim," Pike stood up and busied around his desk, sorting things, collecting things. "you'll get through this, I promise."

Jim blinked once and said nothing.

"I'll see you soon, son. Be safe."

And then Pike was gone and Jim was grateful for the silence that followed.

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><p>This will probably be a one-shot considering I have the attention span of about three A4 pages, but if anyones got any ideas, please say!<p> 


	2. Lady With The Lamp

This was meant to be a one-shot because I don't trust myself enough to update regularly, what with all my revision and coursework and revision... This is my first attempt at anything other than a one-shot, so read with extreme caution. You have been warned.

Swearing ahead!

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><p>"There is no witness so dreadful, no accuser so terrible as the conscience that dwells in the heart of every man." -<em>Polybius<em>

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><p>The medical bay was unnaturally, disturbingly quiet and the nurses scurried to and from the occupied cubicles, heads hung low, fists clenched and eyes red.<p>

Bones sat opposite 'Cupcake', but the burly officer, Brett was his name, had a hollow stare that wasn't focused on the doctor or _anything_ for that matter. He simply looked down at his scarred, mangled hands. White marks littered his skin, cuts the shapes of cresent moons and scratches on both hands that seemed to loop around his wrists. His hands weren't even shaking.

"Brett. Brett Simmons." Bones leaned closer to the other man, taking in the greasiness of his dark hair so that it was slick and pushed away from his forehead. The deep set circles beneath his tired eyes seemed to curve downwards across his entire face, this dark shadow concealing all that he was from the harsh electric light of the medical bay.

"Brett, I need you to look at me." Bones spoke softly, like he was talking to a child, not the grown man before him. He remembered how Simmons used to be. So full of attitude, of energy, of _life_. Jim still called the man 'Cupcake' and Brett now chuckled, rather than decking the captain. He used to anyway. "Brett."

Brett's lips twitched, his left little finger curled and uncurled but his gaze remained firmly fixed on his hands. Bones debated sending the man to his own dorm, but unlike Jim, this man was completely gone. He wasn't there. There was _nothing_ to suggest he was even human, he was little more than a shell of some living thing, stuck between death and life.

But there was one thing you could feel, one thing you knew, sat next to Brett.

He wanted death. He _welcomed_ it.

Leonard tried again and again and this went on for nearly an hour.

Brett didn't speak, he didn't eat, and he didn't sleep. The nurses had to hold him down and force mashed-up food down his throat, not that Cupcake resisted. He wouldn't even swallow.

Damn, he barely breathed.

What the hell had happened down there? What could have been so terrible, so horrific, that it'd do this to a man? A man like Brett?

"Brett, look at me! Look at me, for fucks sake! Just look at me! Just do something!" Bones didn't realise he was shouting, screaming at the man until Nurse Chapel rushed into the small, curtained off corner of sick bay, eyes wide and quivering lips tightly shut.

But she in her face, she understood.

"Doctor McCoy," Her tone was soft and she took Bones gently by the hand, tugging him backwards and out of the space before he did something he'd regret.

Brett still hadn't moved.

"What are you doing, Doctor?"

"He ain't talkin', he ain't-"

"Shouting isn't going to help."

"It might, Goddammit!" His southern drawl was laced heavily in every word, more so than usual like it always was when he was hurting. He took a steadying breath and glanced down at the middle aged nurse who was still holding his hand tightly between her own pales ones.

Her finger nails were short and bleeding, like they'd been gnawed on. A habit that only made itself known in Nurse Chapel when she was desperate.

"I know you're upset, Leonard. We all are." She bit her lip nervously, bit at it until it was blood red, "but this isn't helping anyone, least of all Brett. You worried about Jim, I know. You're his friend, but you need to calm down. Anyway, Admiral Pike is here."

"Already?" McCoy glanced down at his watch and shrugged. Time had gone by quickly.

"He took the fastest shuttle. Don't ask me how he got here so fast. Nothing that man does would surprise me." Her chapped lips turned upwards at the corners, but even Nurse Chapel, the medical bays own Lady With The Lamp, couldn't smile.

Jim felt sick, like something was forcing its way up his throat. There was that noise again, that deep, metallic hum that was so quiet, he wasn't sure it was even there. In a strange way, it was like someone was screaming inside his head. A strangled, choked cry of something so painful, whoever it was couldn't even ask for help. They could only scream.

There wasn't an inch of James that didn't hurt at that moment but he still couldn't move.

He just lay still, back to the door, fingers clawing gently at the soft blankets beneath him, his lips slightly parted.

It didn't sound like his voice; it was distant and no more than a whisper. Jim didn't even realise he was speaking. To who? He wasn't sure. It certainley wasn't himself.

"Human number seventeen thousand, three hundred and forty-two, step forward immediately."

There was that face again. Slashed, ashen and bloody and she was sobbing into a handful of her red hair. It didn't used to be that red, the colour of crimson, thick and sticky. It used to be as gold as ripened wheat on a summers day.

"Step forward immediately, Human seventeen thousand, three hundred and forty-two. Step forward, now. The Su'ille are waiting."

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><p>I'm not really sure where I'm going with this...Dam writers block! I don't have many ideas about what could have happened to Jim, so any feedback would be appreciated!<p> 


	3. The Purple Of The Supernova

I wasn't too sure about this chapter, but I thought I'd better post something :) Thanks for the reviews!

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me (as much as I hate to admit it). I'm just torturing them for my own fun. Enjoy.

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><p>"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."<br>―_Terry Pratchett _

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><p>Christopher Pike wasn't sure what to expect.<p>

When he'd seen Jim over the comm, something inside of him seemed to crumble, to twist in on its self until it hurt. That wasn't Jim. _His_ Jim, the young man who'd somehow wormed his ways into Chris's life and had taken up residence in a very special place inside the Admirals heart. Not many could say they'd achieved that.

It had been a gradual thing. Chris had never been blessed with a child of his own, so he had no idea what that kind of love was meant to feel like. The bond between a father and his child. But he supposed it was something like that of which he couldn't hide when he thought about James Tiberius Kirk. Jim wasn't his son, he knew that. But how Chris wished he was.

When Chris had found Jim, bruised and bleeding on the floor of some random bar in Iowa, it had been the start of something. Throughout Jims academy years, when he got into a fight (which he did often), when he scored top in his classes (which he always did), when he missed his finals because he was hung-over (which he never did), it was Chris who always pulled him back up. Whether he was earth side or in the stars, the former Captain couldn't let the prodigy son of a hero waste away to nothing. He wouldn't.

So he hadn't. He'd been there when Jim needed him. When Jim needed to talk and pull down that bravado mask he wore daily, then Chris listened and never judged. When Jim needed screaming at for another idiotic stunt, then it was Chris who's throat was raw. When Jims lost his way, it was Chris who took him by the hand and pushed his back onto the path he'd strayed from.

And yet, this had happened. And Chris felt completely, utterly _helpless. _

The Admiral unbuckled his life belt and hesitantly got to his feet, his left knee twinging with a hot pain at having been still for so many hours. He winced, but picked his bag up from the floor (he hadn't had the time to pack much) and began to exit the shuttle.

"Thanks, Bentley." He called to the pilot with a slight wave of the hand before he stepped out into the shuttle bay, the bright artificial lights hounding his vision.

It was a large, silver bunker with a hundred space crafts all in rows with workers hurrying to fix any faults. Bones hovered near to where Chris Pike stood and he went forward, face grim.

There was no time for pleasantries

"Where is he?" Pike didn't pause as they walked out into the USS Enterprise corridor and he looked McCoy straight in the eyes with that unwavering gaze that worked on everyone. _Almost _everyone.

"In his quarters."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

Pike didn't look too happy at that, but he didn't say anything else just continued on, his steps long and heavy. Weary. McCoy knew he'd got his mobility back a while ago, but he still had trouble.

McCoy fought down the lump in his throat and clenched his fists until his blunt nails dug into he skin of his palms, "If it's any constellation, Jim's talking, which is more than I can say for the others."

"He'll be okay, McCoy." Pike had to believe that. "He _needs_ to be. Tell me about the others."

"Cupcakes- I mean, Brett, he's the worst. Hasn't eaten in days. Uh, Azeri and Dean, they're not quite as bad, they eat what you put in front of them, go where you tell them. It's the same with Uhura and a couple of the engineers who went down there-"

"What? Did you say Uhura?" Pike forced himself to ask the question, as much as he'd rather not have known the answer. Not her. Why her? His step faultered.

"Yeah." McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingertips, his eyes closing briefly. "Spock won't leave her side. But she won't open her eyes and she keeps repeating this phrase over and over again. _Human seventeen thousand, three hundred and forty-four, step forward now._"

"Have any of the others said it?"

"No, I don't think so. Jim, maybe."

They reached Jim's quarters, but Bones didn't knock. The door whooshed up and the Captain didn't react. He was lying on his bed, its blankets undisturbed and far tidier then they should ever have been. His knees were pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs and God, he looked young. So very young.

Pike shuddered and nodded to the doctor, signalling him to leave.

Dropping his bag like it weighed more than the star ship he was on, the Admiral slowly went towards the bed and sat down on the edge, just in front of Jim, who stared at some invisible thing a few metres away.

"Jim."

The Captains eyelids fluttered and he licked his dry, raw lips.

"I'm here now." Chris went to lay a hand on the young man's arm in a vain hope of comforting him but James flinched. Hurt, the older man drew his hand away, but continued to look down at angst-ridden face of his favourite captain. In some strange way, Jim looked like a child at the same time as looking like one who'd lived a thousand years or more and seen far too much.

His cheek bones seemed to jut out from under his stretched, translucent, white skin and his azure eyes were darker than usual, clouded like they weren't truly _seeing._ Pike didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. He still didn't know what had happened down there. Not even Bones knew.

He wanted reach out and wrap the other in his arms, hold him until the sun expanded and died. But he couldn't do it. Jim seemed to be too far gone for that.

Through the window in the far wall, Jim had the most specular view of the blackness they lingered in. The burning stars glowed in the inky expanse of space and from where they were, they could see a supernova.

It was so very far away and yet the hollow blues and vivid purples seemed to illuminate the vast darkness, twirling and dancing and glowing so brightly, the window automatically dimmed as the light pulsed and turned red. Pike watched for a moment, before looking at Jim.

"Look at that, Jim." He gestured towards the window and much to his delight; the young man's gaze flickered in that direction, "a supernova. That star, it'd had been there for billions of years, alone in space. Just waiting. Now it's exploding, releasing all this energy and heat and light. _Life_. What do you see when you look at that, kid?"

Once upon a time, Jim would have smiled that brilliant smile of his and laughed. Jims laugh made you laugh. His eyes should have been twinkling as he watched the light. He'd of accused Chris of being a sentimental old man, joking, of course and they'd have talked some more and played chess in the wild violet haze of the Supernova.

Jim didn't seem to think about his answer though. He just stayed silent for a few moments, before this tiny, _hateful _whisper left his lips.

"Death."

Chris shuddered, taking in the hollowness in the Captains tone, the surety of what he was saying. Jim truly saw Death that day. And that scared him. That scared him more than anything in the entire universe.

"Oh, Jim." Chris found himself reaching forward and without thinking about it, he bundled the young man in to his arms and held him tightly against his chest in the most desperate, fiercest embrace. Jim seemed to go limp, his head resting in the crook of Chris's neck, his hands hanging uselessly over the sides.

He didn't care enough to resist.

That attitude, that _fire_ was gone. Forget no-win scenarios, there was nothing left and Chris could see the pure, unblemished emptiness inside the young man after only a few seconds in his company.

It should have been Jim who was crying but it was Chris who broke. That made it so much worse. He sobbed into the other mess of dark gold hair, his thumb running over the others bruised cheek in some repetitive rhythm, his other arm encircled around Jims back. If only James' had cried, made a noise, done anything.

It wasn't supposed to be like this at all.

But still Jim stayed there, refusing to break.

He was _beyond_ broken already.

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><p>Reviews are love!<p> 


	4. Blissful Oblivion

I'm literally making this up as I go, which isn't a good way to write, but you know. Italics=flashback

Of course, I own nothing and make no profit from this (if only)...

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><p>"We are accustomed to look upon the shackled form of a conquered monster, but there - there you could look at a thing <em>monstrous<em> and _free."- Heart of Darkness_

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><p>It had taken Christopher Pike forty-three minutes and twenty-nine seconds to stop crying.<p>

Jim had counted. Silently, thoughtlessly inside his head and it had distracted him. It forced him to think of something other than_….that._ Chris had fallen asleep and slumped sideways onto the mattress, dragging Jim down with him, clutching the younger man in an iron-clad grip with white knuckles and tear tracks down his cheeks.  
>James should have been comforted, or at least reassured. The warmth, the heat and the way the Admirals chest rose and fell regularly and from where he lay, Jim could hear as well as feel the older man's heart beating steadily through his chest, is was meant to make it all okay. The close physical contact was supposed to help in these situations.<p>

And yet every part of Jim, every fibre he had was screaming at him, tearing at him, telling him it was _wrong._ He wasn't supposed to feel like this. It's not like he wanted too.

More than anything, Jim wanted to sink into a blissful oblivion and just _forget_. Except he couldn't. He didn't deserve that peace, that love. What was supposed to be a soothing gesture physically hurt. It was hateful and suffocating and Jim just wanted to shove the older man away and _run_. God, how he wanted to run and scream and beat someone until they whimpered.

Jim blinked, startled. He didn't want that, of course he didn't. That wasn't him.

And what made Jim sicker was the fact that deep down, buried beneath these layers he refused to peel back, he knew every single _disgusting_ word of it was true.

At some point, Jim did fall asleep but he didn't dream. He just remembered.

_The rough hands that locked onto Jims arms were painful, incredibly so and the Captain fought hard to hold the cry desperate to escape his lips. He struggled vainly, trying to twist around in the aliens grip to get a glipse of the others. He could hear Cupcake swearing wildly behind him, but the rest were quiet, too scared to speak._

_"Cease talking, human." _

_Their voices were deep, grating with this wierd sharpness at the end of every word. They were tall beings, at least nine feet tall, with rippling muscles and their skin was a murky grey, tinged with a rather beautiful blue when the light hit their smooth flesh. They were quite humanoid in shape, with two stretching legs and two burly, short arms. However, their feet were like birds feet, clawed with black feathers and from out of their broad backs, three more limbs twisted and gnarled as they walked at an iinhuman pace._

_Jim found his feet just skimming the cold floor of the underground chamber with its sparkling white walls and tiled flooring. It was like an operating theatre and that made Jim feel even more fearful._

_"I am James Tiberius Kirk of the USS Enterprise, I demand to know where you're taking us!" Jim cried franticaly, throwing his head back in an attempt to get a look at the creatures. "Let us go!"_

_The two that held him drew to a halt and shared a glance with each other, before directing their gaze at the panting human they held between them._

_They had eight small, grey eyes without pupils. That was the first thing Jim noticed and their bleached lips peeled back in a snarl to reveal four rows of jagged black teeth. Their forked tounges were white and their actually head looked quite small on their shoulders, but was generally round with some sort of finn stretching from between their fourth and fifth eyes down to the nape of their necks._

_Jim swallowed nervously and wasn't reassured in the slightest when the two aliens started to laugh._

_"Did you hear that, Maleke? The human has a name!" The tallest one on Jims left snorted and shuddered with mirth._

_"James!" The other echoed, pronouncing the 'J' as an 'sh' sound. But despite their heavy, drawn accents, their english was preety impressive._

_"James!"_

_"Look, you have no right to hold us here! Who the hell do you think you are?" Jim growled viciously, "you release us immediatly you fugly bastards!"_

_The aliens stopped laughing and it all fell silent. Jim briefly wondered whether that was the appropriate thing to say considering the current circumstances._

_Maleke blinked his eight eyes in unison and his tounge lashed out so quickly, Jim never even saw it. A sharp, stabbing pain took hold of his neck and the Captain didn't even have time to make a noise before he was submerged in the inky blackness of unconsiouness._

It was at ten minutes past midnight when Bones slipped into the room, both shocked and grateful at the sight of the captain and the Admiral. Bones shook his head and hesitantly, he reached forward and nudged Pike in the ribs. The older man stirred slowly, eyes blinking rapidly as the memories of the nights events came tumbling back in a wave. He looked from McCoy and back down to Jim, who even as he slept, hid away from the prying eyes and hid his face in his hands.

"Sir?" Bones spoke softly and it seemed unnatural on such a man.

"I didn't know it was this bad, McCoy." Pike muttered, gently unfolding his arms from beneath the young man and positioning him on the blankets, dark blonde hair falling further across his forehead. It had grown since Chris had last seen him, "he's so cold."

Neither men had to ask what kind of 'cold' Pike meant.

"Sir, I need to speak with you."

"What is it?" Pike winced as he stood up, bones clicking, muscles complaining with the curse of old age.

"It's Uhura."

"What about her?"

"She…" Bones trailed off, his gaze drifting back down towards the bed where from under Jims golden bangs, two dark cobalt eyes seemed to glare at Leonard McCoy, "Jim."

Chris snapped back towards Jim, touching him briefly on the cheek to get the Captains attention on him, "Jim, are you alright?"

Jim licked his lips and breathed deeply, "I'm fine."

"That's all he ever says." Bones murmured, his vision blurred as salty tears filled his eyes and he angrily blinked them away.

Pike glanced at the Doctor with something resembling sympathy in his eyes. "You're his best friend, doctor. If anyone can get through to him, it's you."

Bones rubbed the back of his neck and got down beside his friend, his pseudo brother. But he had nothing to say. He just looked Jim straight in the eyes, gaze unwavering and waited.

They waited a few minutes and during that time, Jim didn't blink once.

Finally he spoke in that same monotone. "I'm fine."

Bones slammed his hand down on the bed, his voice was furious, not with the younger man, never, "Son of a bitch! You're not fine! Stop saying you're fine! Godamit, Jim!"

Chris put his hand on Bones shoulder and firmly pushed him towards the door, looking back at the unaffected captain in the room.

"Go back to sleep, kid."

Outside, Bones slumped against the wall, head hung low, his hands balled into tight fists as he fough to control his harsh breathing.

Pike didn't remove his hand. "What about Uhura?"

Bones swallowed and straightened up, inhaling deeply as if to calm himself, "She won't stop screaming. She just keeps screaming…."

"Screaming?" Pike echoed, his deeply lined expression creasing.

"Come and see for yourself."

Pike watched McCoy stride away towards medical and after taking one last look at the crumpled form of Jim, he followed the Doctor, legs moving of their own accord.

Nyota Uhura's dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders, limp, dull. It was tangled, riddled with knots and one of nurses, Genevieve or something similar, had tried to brush them out with a touch far too gentle. Uhura didn't react, obviously. She was vaguely aware of the young woman's presence, the over-powering smell of her perfume that seemed to dim more each day Uhura remained in medical bay.

Her wounds still hadn't healed.

And she could feel another gaze on her. It seemed cold at first but she knew it was Spock. She knew and she didn't care. She wouldn't open her eyes. She knew what she would see and Uhura also knew that she could never open her eyes again. Never see the sunlight or the blue grass or the face of the man she loved. If she did that, then they'd get back. They'd have her again.

"Nyota, you're safe here, I promise."

"Uhura, what's wrong?"

"Please stop, stop!"

"Nyota, why are you doing this?"

"Why are you doing this to _me_?"

Spock's voice was calm, collected as it always was but there was something about it that wasn't right. That felt foreign and deafening to Nyota's ears and while she had that sense of everything being off-balance, she was all too aware how there was _nothing._ None of this was real.

How could any of it be real?

She never escaped. She was still stuck there in that place with the white walls and the hundreds of eyes, all haunted, all hungry and always consuming.

And so she screamed. And she didn't stop.

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><p>Please review :p Please!<p> 


	5. The Luxury Of Torment

Thank you for the reviews, especially Fergnerd as that kinda gave me an idea about the ending...I'm really struggling with this story as I'm not sure where to take it, so any advice would be very much appreciated! Anyway, I can't sseem to write Spock very well, so please excuse his brief appearance :)

I don't own any of the characters from Star Trek!

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><p>"All hearts are broken. All lives end. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock."- BBC Sherlock<p>

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><p>There was only so long a person could lay still, thinking, remembering and wishing to God that he'd just forget, and Jim had reached that limit. The moment Chris and Bones left, he dragged himself gracelessly to his feet, stumbling slightly at the odd sensation of being vertical before he staggered into the bathroom.<p>

With his hands clutching the rim of the white sink, he hesitated before glancing up at his reflection in the mirror.

It wasn't Jim that stared back.

No, this man, he was _more_ than dead. His skin was a harsh, leaden colour and a strained purple beneath his sunken, overcast eyes. His eyelashes were clumped together with tears and grime and who knew what else and his cheeks didn't have that usual rose-pink tinge. They were just as pallid as the rest of him.

Jim winced at the metallic tang of blood in his mouth as his lips began to bleed again and he stood straighter to get a better look at himself. He honestly wished he hadn't. Besides the angular and jagged frame that was his body, reddish blue bruises peaked out from under his collar and wrapped their way around his neck. The finger prints were mostly faded, but he could see them_, feel_ them as they tightened and clawed at his throat. The cuts were bandaged up beneath his clothes, his many broken ribs and split skin bound tightly by the gauze, so much so that it felt uncomfortable to breathe.

Jim had refused to have them healed instantly by Bones.

The disgust, the self-loathing seemed to fade from Jim's face at that moment, his lips uncurled and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. The corners of his mouth seemed to twitch up into a lopsided smirk. That person in the mirror, that person that liked the bruises and the pale pallor and the angry red marks, he _grinned_. Buried deep inside of that person was Jim, the _real_ Jim and he'd never felt more revolted in his entire life

But James T Kirk couldn't afford the luxury of torment, of agony any longer. Those feelings and that despair, they _hurt_ too much. His humanity was _too much._

He had to turn it off.

So Jim pulled his shirt over his head and without looking at himself, he got dressed like he would any other day. He wet his wild hair and smoothed it down across his forehead, precisely so it concealed an arrow shaped cut that lay there and he tied his shoe laces with disturbingly steady hands.

With his remote expression and stance that gave nothing away, Jim was detached from all that he was, from all his friends were and from all that happened down there.

He was numb. And he was free.

It was an ear splitting screech that greeted Chris and Bones as they entered the room where Uhura had been moved too. It was raw and brutal and primitive, like Nyota was screaming because she had to. Because that was all she could think to do.

Nurse Chapel stood by the bed, desensitized to the sound by that point, her hands absently straightening out her clothes. Chris winced, his gut wrenching as he looked upon Uhura.

The brilliant, intelligent, beautiful Nyota Uhura. Except, at that moment, she looked so tortured, it couldn't possibly have been her. Jim, compared to Uhura, looked better.

This struck something inside of Chris, part of him was guilty and another part was glad. Either way, if it came down to it, he'd choose to save Jim every single time.

"She has been screaming for over 98 minutes, Admiral."

It was then Chris noticed Spock, stood tall and unflinching in the corner and though most wouldn't see it, there was a trace of pain in his eyes. But he hid it well. All looked towards Uhura, with her hands over her ears, her eyes screwed shut against the world and her lips parted in a perishing cry. She only stopped to breathe.

"I-Is it just her, who's doing this?" Chris asked, feeling very stupid.

"Yes-"

Bones was interrupted by Nurse Chapel, "No, sir, Azeri David has started too. We moved him to another deck."

McCoy frowned, dark eyebrows knotted. "He just started too?" The southern doctor questioned in confusion.

"Just after you left."

McCoy beckoned Chapel outside so it was that only Chris, Nyota and Spock that remained inside the room.

There was a moment's silence besides Uhura and the gently hum of the engines beneath their feet which was suddenly very noticeable. Then Chris spoke up.

"How are you feeling, Spock?" It was a dumb question, he knew that much, but he felt the need to ask, however awkward it felt, "I know how …..much she means to you."

"I'm not sure I comprehend, Admiral." There it was, that Vulcan mask.

"Spock, don't do that." The human sighed without a hint of annoyance, just weariness, "You have to deal with this, for Uhura. You know what I'm talking about so don't pretend it doesn't matter. She loves you, she needs you-"

"She does not need me!" Spock snapped in a clean, composed and slightly raised tone. His eyes were so very dark and yet, his teeth were bared in a threatening manner. "She requires a psychological examination from a verified medical practitioner or doctor specialising in mental well-being. I am neither one of these things and therefore, _cannot_ help the situation any further. "

And then he strode purposely from the room and was gone without another word.

So Chris turned his attention back to Uhura and he found that just by hearing her screaming, he felt himself breaking a little inside.

"_Jim!" She gasped upon seeing her Captain, her friend, drop like a sack of stones at the alien's feet. She fought against those who held her, ignoring the protests of Azeri behind her._

"_Don't be stupid!" He hissed, face sweating and she glared at him. Coward._

"_Don't you hurt him!" Uhura cried, watching in sickening horror as the tallest creature, Maleke, threw the young human over his shoulder without a hint of gentleness, "please."_

_They ignored her and switched back into their own dialect and it frustrated Uhura because she couldn't understand a word. It was nothing like anything she'd heard before. Her eyes remained of the limp form of Jim as they walked further, but not for very long as they soon came to a small, square window in the wall. It was big enough for humans, but there was no way those lanky beasts were getting through it._

_First, Maleke drew up the window with his long fingers and pushed Jim through into the cell. Then went Brett, who struggled frantically because they couldn't see what lay behind the window. It was just blackness. For all any of the humans knew, they were being tossed into a gaint blender._

_They overpowered Cupcake, obviously and Uhura didn't resist when it was her turn. She closed her eyes and hissed as she slid through the window and rolled onto the cold, sticky ground behind. She blinked against the pure, pitch black and she couldn't help but breathe faster as panic clawed at her heart._

"_Brett, where the hell are you?" She growled, crawling forwards, stretching out her hands for any signs of life. She wondered what the liquid was that coated her hands. She heard Azeri, Dean and Queenie tumbled in behind her before the window was shut and locked. _

"_I'm here." Brett whispered from somewhere to the right and she turned that way, gasping in relief when she felt the man's hand and also found the prone and lifeless body of Jim._

"_Jim!" She took his face in her hands and shook him slightly, but he didn't make a sound. He was breathing, that was something. She gathered up the captain in her arms and held him there. Despite their differences in the past, Nyota had grown to love the arrogant little smart-ass of a captain. He was great man, every one said it, but more importantly, he was a good one._

"_Is Jim alright?" Queenie murmured from somewhere close by._

"_I think so," Uhura whispered, her chin resting on Jims' head as her hands rubbed up and down his arms in an attempt to warm him up a little. She hadn't noticed before how cold the bunker was. "Why are they doing this? I've never come across this race before."_

"_Neither have I. But there was some similarities-"_

_But Cupcake was cut off mid-sentence as the lights switched on and the place they were trapped in was revealed. And much to Nyota's horror, the liquid smeared across her skin was nothing other than the oozing blood of those who'd been there before them._

_She screamed. They all did._

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><p>Please review and give me your feedback :)<p> 


	6. Pearly White Teeth

Thank you for the positive reviews and everyone who added this to their faves/alerts. To Laneydaze96, yes I love Criminal Minds! They have the most amazing quotes :)

Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me, not unless any one's willing to sign these characters over to an obsessive 16 year old...no? Okay, then.

Warning: No swearing, but violence.

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><p>"<em>I can save one life, a <em>_**hundred**__ lives, but it's never enough. Who will save me?" – Burn Gorman._

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><p>They all stared.<p>

Everyone on the bridge twisted around in their chairs and just _looked_. Mouths slightly agape, eyes a little bit too wide and fingers hovering over controls, unsure what to do with themselves and Jim ignored them all, strode towards his chair with as much dignity as he could manage before settling down in it and he vaguely registered that the crease of the seat, the familiarity of the faded leather where his hands were, did nothing to make any of it feel normal. It occurred to Jim that nothing about his life was normal. It was perilous and wonderful and everything in between and he used to just _bask_ in it. It was the adventure of it all, the meaning that it gave him, the sense of responsibility that was so different from the life he had before. It felt good to be needed, _wanted_ .

But that was a long time ago.

"Jim-"Sulu sounded incredibly confused but quickly corrected his informality. It was almost like he knew calling Jim by his nickname didn't feel quite right anymore. "Captain, how are you? Dr McCoy-"

"I'm fine." Said James Kirk in a tone as emotionless as his young face and you could see the concern flash in Sulu's eyes. "Status update?"

No one said anything for a few, awkward moments and the pure tension in the room could have been slashed with a razor. Jim shifted in his seat, his damaged ribs twinging in protest at the movement but he'd didn't so much as wince. Broken ribs were nothing compared to…that.

"Uh, we…" Checov spoke up over the deafening silence, his accent unusually thick and he glanced back at the bleeping panels in front of him, as did Sulu in an attempt to escape Jim's hollow gaze. "We are at maximum warp, Keptin and our destination is Earth, by order of Admiral Pike."

"Earth," Jim repeated in that same monotone, the word sounding strange to his ears. There was a point, not so long ago, that Jim never expected to see Earth again. At the time, it had been the most unbearable thought, but at that moment, in that chair with his friends who were somehow strangers, it didn't matter. "How long till we get there?"

"About 27 hours, Keptin."

"Right, carry on."

They all looked away, not that Jim particularly cared. They could say or think whatever the _hell _they wanted as far as he was concerned. It made no difference to him, nothing did. He was fine. Absolutely, positively, _fine_.

Time passed at a rate much slower than usual, like the universe itself was watching Jim Kirk, analysing every gentle movement he made, every flash of nothingness that struck his face. Sulu, Checov and the rest of them didn't _dare_ look at Jim. They didn't need to speak to him to see that something was very wrong with their captain, they could see it, feel it in his presence but they didn't comment. How could they? They might have been his friends, his family in all aspects but blood, but he was still their captain. Himself or not, they had to stay quiet yet there was a part of them that didn't see a broken captain. They just saw their shattered, silent brother.

Jim had noticed the way Chekov's head drooped slightly over his station, his eyelids fluttering and his hands sliding slowly from the panel. He was falling asleep after working extreme over-time; Jim deduced that it wouldn't be long before the young ensign was on the floor and dead to the world.

Sulu leaned over, trying and failing, to be subtle.

"Wake up, Checov!"

"_Wake up, Jim!"_

_Jim could hear her voice through the thick, near enough impregnable haze that clouded his senses and left him numb. He barely registered the blazing pain in the back of his skull or the way the world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis every time he took a sharp, stabbing breathe. He knew a mild concussion wasn't his biggest concern, but for the life of him, Jim couldn't work out what was._

"_Jim, please, you need to wake up."_

_It was Nyota's tone of voice that did it. The way it shuddered from pitch to pitch and had gone soft with a painful rasp and Jim fought away the blackness and dragged himself back. But then he opened his eyes and while the first thing he saw was Uhura's face only inches from his own, he also saw the blood._

_It was the __**darkest **__red that Jim had ever seen. It wasn't in splatters, just wide pools that stretched out from all directions, touching everything in its reach. It was like the floor was bleeding, the walls, like the room itself was alive and dying._

"_Don't think about it." Cupcake murmured and Jim lifted himself out a little of Uhura's grip to get a look at the man. He had a blackberry purple bruise blossoming on his forehead and he looked unusually pale, but other than that, he didn't seem too hurt. He was however, balancing on his heels, still trying to avoid touching the sticky lifeblood even though it was dried onto his skin already._

"_What-?"_

_It wasn't exactly the door that opened, in fact, all four of the walls just drew upwards and disappeared into the ceiling so quickly, the huddled humans blinked in disorientation. And there they were, all around in every direction. The Su'ille stood tall and proud and hungry with this alien emotion across their faces. So very alien. _

_"Ah, the humans still live, I see." _

_It was a new voice, low and Jim couldn't tell which one was speaking because their mouth's didn't seem to move._

_"Who are you?" It was the only thing he could think to say,_

_The tallest ones directly before the humans drew apart and from behind them, a short, yet lithe creature came forward. It looked the same as the others, but it's skin had a purple hue to it and it's eyes were bright than the brightest supernova. Jim visibly shivered and he felt Uhura clutch at his hand in a moment of fear so very new to her._

_"Can you feel that, Maleke?" The newcomer whispered softly, "that fear. It's just pulsing from the little things, isn't it?"_

_"It is, master." Maleke seemed to grin._

_"Tell me who you are!" Jim hissed, darting foward a little._

_"I am Xarchlan. These are my...friends, as you humans may say. But that's not important-"_

_"What-"_

_"What do I want?" _

_The fact **it** knew what Jim was going to say disturbed him greatly, but he didn't make it obvious. His breathing faltered momentarily but he held his stone gaze._

_"Well, James Tiberius KirK, I'm running an experiment and you-" One arm swept out across the humans, "are my volunteers."_

_"Volunteers?" Jim gasped, voice hitched and he could feel pure dread taking hold of his muddled thoughts. "We are your prisoners."_

_"If you so wish," Xarchlan remained incredibly at ease, "my experiment is a simple one. I've always been facisnated by you humans and your emotions. The irrationality of your emotions. Most say that is mankinds **greatest** weakest, your ability to feel. I do not agree. Your fear keeps you alive, it keeps you running."_

_"What do you want?"_

_"I want to know who's right. Do emotions keep you alive? Does fear keep you fighting? Some of you-" He gestured to the humans on the left, Dean, Cupcake and Queenie, "will feel nothing. No pain or hate or joy while the others-" He fized his gaze of Jim again, "will be consumed by it."_

_By this point, Jim was barely listening. He knew how this would end, he knew what was coming._

_"Get some sleep, humans. Tommorrow, we begin."_

"Captain, are you okay?"

"Yeh, you look kinda….."

Jim blinked rapidly as he was brought rushing back to the present in a series of shuddering heartbeats to come face to face with a concerned crew. He didn't know what to say, there didn't seem to be much getting out of this one. Bad timing for a flashback, Jim noted.

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" Jim's smile held no humour.

Checov gaped and Sulu raised a single eyebrow in a very Spock-like manner. 'Well, you were just tortured and imprisoned' was written all over their expressions. Then suddenly they turned back around and looked away without another glance and even in Jims vacant thoughts, he wondered why.

"Jim."

Pike. Jim should've rolled his eyes or clenched his jaw; he didn't want to see the man. Chris came up to the Captain's chair and bent down close to the younger man, eyes brimming with something Jim couldn't begin to care about and voice soft so that no one else could hear.

"What are you doing down here, Jim? You're not well, kid." Jim didn't like the delicate tone the admiral had taken on or the way a scarred hand had settled upon him. He snatched his arm away instantly and glared.

"I'm fine."

"Fine? No, you're not. Now come on." Chris tugged on Jim's sleeve once, then twice when the other made no movement. "Jim, you're coming with me."

"No, I'm not_, Admiral_."

Chris paused at the use of his title. They were well passed addressing each other formally and that, along with the distant coldness of Jim's whole demeanour, frightened him a little. He could guess why Jim was up there, trying to escape it all and go back to normality. It wouldn't work, obviously. Jim was going to crash and burn and there wasn't no way in hell that Chris was prepared to let him fall quite so far.

"Jim-"

"It's _Captain_ -"

"_Jim_, you're going to stand up and follow me from this room. Then we're going to go back to your dorm and we're going to talk or you're going to sleep or eat something."

And then Jim was angry. Livid, in fact and it was the first real emotion he'd felt for what seemed like so long, but it was there and he jumped up and shoved the older man away. It wasn't a gentle shove either.

Chris faltered and fell back against the controls and everyone stopped. But it was the glint in Jims eyes that scared them, the way the once most vivid of blues was dark and dead and sinister but Chris couldn't bring himself to look directly into them. He straightened up and set his face.

"Jim!"

And then there was Bones and the look he gave Jim, a look so…it _hurt_. It hurt Jim to have his best friend look at him like that. Like he was some kind of monster.

Jim couldn't stand it, so he ignored it and met the doctors dark gaze with an equally unbreakable one. A flash of blue on blue and pearly white teeth and Bones came forward, he shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have but then he reached out and Jim reacted. He reacted purely on animalistic instinct, something he'd done before, far too many times.

Jim's knuckles cracked against Bones' jaw with a resounding snap because he used all the power he had behind that one blow. The older man smashed against the deck, not a sound escaping his lips, his gums were too swollen for that. Blood trailed thickly down his chin where he bit through his tongue and it was obvious from the abnormal angle of his jaw bones that it was broken.

There were cries and shouts and hands holding Jim back and he battled against it, his teeth bared, every muscles screaming, every nerve ending shrieking. It was Chris who held the captains in a vice-like grip, his arms around the younger man, to stop him, to protect him.

"Jim! Jim! Stop this!"

Through McCoy haze of pain and shock, he looked deep into the face of his best, most loyal friend.

He didn't see him.

There was something primal about Jim's expression, something raw and visceral about the way he'd lunged out the moment Bones reached out to him, like an animal does when it's frightened.

And then, with one hand hesitantly clutching at his broken jaw, Bones met Jim's gaze and then the younger man just went still. That fleeting rage was gone from his face and it was replaced with a cool, passive appearance.

But Bones preferred the rage, even that was better than nothing.

"Doctor McCoy, we must get you to medical bay." Someone said as they dragged him up and led him away, head spinning, focus wavering.

"No, Jim…" But his speech was muffled, an unrecognisable slur and then the captain was out of sight, but Bones had already passed out.

Chris said nothing as he and another ensign guided the captain from the deck and towards his dorm, totally unsure how to handle the situation.

When the other was gone and Jim was collapsed on his bed, barely breathing, his knuckles grazed and crushed from the force of the punch, Chris allowed himself to speak the one thing that had been plaguing his thoughts for so long.

"What have they done to you, Jim? Where have you gone?"

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><p>I think this fic's progressing very slowly, so sorry about that, but I seem to have lost my muse...I'll get it back some time soon. Please review, it's the only thing that keeps me going with this :)<p> 


	7. A Little Thing Called Humanity

Quick update, I know, but I was inspired! I took Murt's advice on this chapter and thanks for the reviews!

Warning: Scences of TORTURE and ANGSTY THEMES. If this bothers you, I suggest you go read something else.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own, dark plot bunnies...they're holding me hostage.

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><p><em>"Who so sheddeth man's blood by man shall his blood be shed." Genesis 9:6<em>

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><p>Emotions were one of those things that were always just <em>there<em>. There was never a time when a person should live without them. It's what made a human, human. It's what made them smile at the first ray of light through their window on a cold day in the dead of winter. It's what made them cry when they were watching some overrated soap opera characters live out their lives that somehow mirrored their own. It's what made them shout and curse at the people they loved, or the people they hated, when life turned against them, like it was somehow their fault. Some of the time it was. But most of the time, it just happened.

Like so many things happen and then they go by and people forget and forgive and all is right in the universe. For a moment, anyway. And then the feelings come back. Slowly, at first, just creeping and seeping through the cracks in the armour humans _always_ build.

That makes it worse. Hiding, only to be found far too soon. If only they didn't have to feel any of it. If only they could flick the switch on their humanity, the one thing that made them _real_, the one thing that gave them hope, the one thing that tore it all down again.

But Jim, he knew he could pretend not to feel any of it. He could carry on and smile and laugh and live but it'd always be there, lurking, waiting in the darkened shadows of his sub-conscious and as soon as he thinks he's beaten it, it'll rear its ugly, vengeful head. And Jim would be consumed once more.

He could never, ever win.

It was quiet in his dorm. A tranquil silence that stretched on and muffled everything and it should have given him time to think. Think about what he was doing, what _they_ had done, without anyone else watching or listening. Except the silence was unnerving and unnatural and despite the darkness, Jim could see them.

They were watching him. He knew they were. Their experiment was playing out just how they thought it would, just how they wanted it too. He was falling apart and all because of his humanity. It wasn't what they'd done to him. It was his inability to cope with it, to rationalise it without crying and screaming and _hating_.

Jim bit down hard on his knuckles and the heavy, coppery tang of blood filled his senses and he grimaced, but he didn't stop biting. It was the only thing that stopped him from calling out into the shadows for someone, anyone, to save him.

But no one could save him.

What had happened once the Su'ille had introduced themselves and told their captives of their 'plans' for them, had bled into one long blur of agony. Not just physical agony, although that was pretty horrific.

"_Step one, subject human __seventeen thousand, three hundred and forty-two to extreme physical torture until a point close to death."_

They'd sliced and cut and hacked at Jim like he was an animal rounded up for slaughter and they enjoyed every second of it. They _liked_ the way Jim's shoulders dislocated from the weight of his body suspended four feet above the ground. They _loved_ the way Jim's skin seemed to peel like that of an orange to reveal the gooey, fleshy pink beneath. They _laughed_ at the way Jim's teeth stained red as his gums bled and the way that when they took a small, blunt object and applied enough pressure, it pierced through the many layers of muscle and sinew until it hit bone. The raw cries of the humans excited them.

"_Step two, subject human seventeen thousand, three hundred and forty-two to extreme psychological torture until a point close to mental collapse."_

And then there were the hallucinations that were so very real, Jim could actually touch the burnt hands of Leonard McCoy, smell the whisky and acid on Scottie's breath and hear the small, scared voice of a father he'd never known.

They weren't exactly happy hallucinations so it was no wonder they kept whirling back and forth between Jim's ears.

Jim didn't realise he was asleep until he woke up screaming.

"Jim! Jim, calm down! You're okay!"

A panicked voice and panicked hands all over his body and Jim, blinded by his tears, fought against them.

"No, Jim! It's me, it's Chris. It's Chris, Jim; we're the only ones here."

And in the hollow lamp light of his dawn, Jim couldn't breathe. He clutched at his throat, dragged his fingers over his bruised skin to try and loosen his _neck_, but it wasn't working. His heart hammered in his ears and his chest burned with fury at being deprived of oxygen for so very long.

Chris took the young man's face in his hands and whispered to Jim, his voice quiet and wavering before he pushed the Captains forward and rubbed encouraging circles across his back.

"I can't breathe!" Jim somehow choked out a few words and God, it hurt. "I can't..."

"You can, Jim. You're safe here. Just breathe with me."

Chris was so close that the other could feel the rise and fall of his chest and focusing, he tried to copy him but the fear, the overwhelming urge to run was rising again. And much faster this time.

"No! Chris, let me go! They're coming! They're gonna kill me…please….let me….-"

"I won't let anything happen to you, Jim."

A hand through his hair, a kiss to his temple.

"You can't stop them, no one can." Jim wept violently and at any other time, he'd of been embarrassed by such a childish display. But he couldn't physically stop.

"You're far away from them! I'll never let it happen again." Chris just clutched on to the young man as tightly as he could and he nearly sobbed in relief when Jim's breathing evened out.

And then it stopped.

_Completely._

It took Chris a moment to realise that Jim was holding his breathe, but when he did, he dragged the young man down on to the floor and held him at arm's length and he shook him wildly like a rag doll.

But Jim's eyes were wide and open and focused on something far away again and he was seeing something so terrible, he'd literally just become motionless.

"_As you can see, James Tiberius Kirk, not all candidates reached this level of the experiment. You should be proud."_

_Jim was on his knees; his clothes near enough ripped from his back and just a little bit in front of him, was a woman. At least, he assumed she was a woman._

_You couldn't really tell, she was too far gone for that._

_Her hair was one of the only things left intact and that was hacked and dried in red clumps. How Jim hated the colour red._

_Maleke, who watched Jim with a cold smile, nudged the dead woman with the clawed toe of his foot and she rolled away, in pieces, and Jim retched._

Just the thought of her made Jim sick again, not that he'd really eaten and while that scared Chris, at least he was breathing again.

Or hyperventilating, whichever way you chose to look at it.

"Oh, Jim, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, kid." Chris near enough held Jim in the air so he didn't fall back onto the floor and Jim lolled and Chris hated the lifeless of his whole demeanour. "You're alright now."

"No…" Jim moaned between gasps and he kept repeating that, pure terror lacing every word.

So Chris hummed to the captain, a song he'd only ever heard his mother sing. He didn't compare to her and her flawless notes, but it seemed to help a little because soon Jim rested his head in the crook of Chris's neck and just sat there.

He wasn't listening though.

About an hour later, when the Admirals throat grew sore, he manhandled Jim into the bathroom and flicked on the taps.

Jim stared vacantly at the water rising up in the bath tub, clear and warm and Chris helped him undress, though the older man kept Jim's shorts on so he could hold onto _some _dignity. If he got better-no, _when_, he got better, he'd appreciate that.

"Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

No reply, just a quick blink from Jim and then he was in the bath, one hand going back and forth beneath the surface of the water, watching the ripples of the water like a child would.

With gentle hands, Chris wet the flannel and rinsed the grime from the others pale skin, lifting up his arms because Jim was too absent to do it himself.

Chris put shampoo in his stragly blonde hair and kneaded hesitantly, unsure where Jim's skull had cracked.

"When I was thirty-five, one of my best friends went missing. Isidore, he just vanished. We looked everywhere for months and then one day, on some random moon in the Farrows Nebula, he appeared. He was different. He was…like you.

I still, to this day, don't know what happened to him. He won't say. He just shuts down but he's better now, Jim. It took _years_ for him to find himself again, but it's possible. Things _do_ get better. My mother used to say that. She was usually right."

Once Jim was clean, Chris held open a towel and the other slowly climbed out and took it from him, wrapping himself tightly in the soft fabric.

"What do you want to do now, kid? It's almost morning-"

Chris would have continued but then the comm began to buzz over and over again and with a frown, the Admiral stpped out of the bathroom and opened the door to the dorm.

Panting and sweating, stood Spock, doubled over.

"Spock? What-?"

"Admiral, you must come." His tone went from high to low and just that loss of control on Spock's part unnerved Chris. "It's Nyota…she…"

"Uhura what?"

"She's _stabbed_ Nurse Chapel."

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><p>OOhhh...what do you think? Any advice as to how I should continue? Please Review, I appreciate it :D<p> 


	8. Spark Of Light

I hope this chapters okay, I wasn't too sure about it….

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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><p><em>"Abandon hope all ye who enter here."-Divine Comedy<em>

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><p>"<em>Stabbed<em>?" Chris could hardly believe what he was hearing. Perhaps he had heard wrong? He was tired and concern about Jim and there was no way in hell that Nyota Uhura would hurt anyone, especially someone as kind as Nurse Chapel.

"Yes."

"Stabbed? But-"

But she _wouldn't _do that. Of course she wouldn't and yet, Jim would never hurt McCoy. Jim loved the arrogant, southern doctor like a brother, more than he loved his _real_ brother.

But he'd done it.

Uhura had done it.

"You must come, Admiral." Spock's jaw was clenched, his eyes were hard. He was scared, terribly so and it was because of his feelings towards Uhura, that he let those emotions shine through his jagged movements, his shuddery voice, his glistening eyes. "She won't calm down….we can't…."

Chris stood for a moment, gaping. "I…I can't leave Jim, Spock. He's worse."

"No, you must bring him with you." Spock was frustrated. Why couldn't the man understand? Why couldn't he see? "He's the only one who can get through to Nyota in her current condition. He's the only one who knows what happened and has some level of consciousness."

"Bring him? No, he could get hurt-"

"He's already hurt, Admiral. So is Nyota and she _needs_ him, in a way I cannot explain."

Chris was going to ask what Spock meant by that, but the Vulcan was already jogging away towards the medical bay, his usual slick black hair limp and greasy as it fell across his eyes.

The Admiral stood quietly for a moment, his hand resting on the wall, his body feeling strangely hot. This couldn't be happening.

"Jim?"

The young man was exactly where Chris had left him, his hands grasping the towel limply around his shoulders, his hair dripping droplets of water into his red-rimmed eyes, his gaze vacant once again. It was like he'd never screamed or wailed in the older man's arms, never begged for someone to save him from the horrors he couldn't escape.

"Jim, we need to go to Medical Bay."

"Medical Bay?" His glazed stare flickered upwards ever so slightly.

"Yes, Nyota…she's…you need to speak to her Jim."

No answer.

"You understand her."

Nothing.

"You know what happened."

And then he looked up, properly this time, his lips set in a hard line.

"No." And yet, his voice gave nothing away. "I don't."

With nothing left to say to the kid, Chris gathered up his clothes and returned with some new ones. Jim took them wordlessly and watched as the older man left the room to change quickly from his sleep wear.

James, for no more than a second, let his mind wander back to the last time he'd spoken to Nyota. It was days ago and he said barely anything, he couldn't and yet she….

Jim dropped the towel and got dressed, the shirt sticking lightly to his still wet skin.

He was cold.

Bones had thankfully been given a good dose of painkillers after his jaw had been reset and the swelling had gone down considerably, so it was through a drugged haze that he watched the other surgeons, the other doctor's work on Nurse Chapel through the glass of the operating theatre. He _should _have been in there. He couldn't bear the thought of their hands rooting through her insides, not caring, not feeling anything but satisfaction that they could add another life to their résumé. But Bones could barely move his fingers or his legs for that matter and his head was buzzing wildly, humming with the dull pain which was slowly, but surely, returning with a vengeance.

He hadn't seen what happened, but he'd been told that when Uhura's screaming finally quietened, Christine Chapel had gone inside her room to check that she was alright.

She hadn't expected Uhura to have stabbed her over _thirty _times in the abdomen with the knife left over from her untouched dinner. Christine wasn't even conscious when she hit the floor. The only thing that alerted the other staff to trouble was the fact Uhura walked calmly from the room, blood thick on her hands, and sat down in the hallway.

But by then, Nurse Chapel was nearly dead.

"How is she?"

Bones glanced up at Christopher Pike through heavy eyelids and he was surprised to see Jim hovering quietly in the background, unable or not wanting to look Bones in the face.

"She's…." Bones had to swallow the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. Since when had he cared so much for Nurse Chapel? Since when had she become the woman who he went out of his way to see each day? Since when her delicate, soft features become something he found himself staring at? He hadn't thought he could feel that way about someone, not since Jocelyn.

How could he admit that he thought about Christine all the time and she was one of the only people, besides Joanna and Jim, which Bones could say he truly loved? If she died, then she'd never know what he had just realised. He'd never know if she could feel the same way.

"How are you?" Pike lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.

But Bones didn't need to answer. The hollowness in the doctors eyes, the tears tracks down his cheeks gave it all away.

"I'm sorry, Leonard." The Admiral sighed deeply, sadly, "I need to speak to Spock. I hope….I hope she's okay. I'm sure she will be."

Then he walked away but Jim stayed, watching Bones closely, analytically.

No one spoke for a few moments, neither one of them saw the point besides, what could they say? Jim could say sorry but Bones wouldn't care, he didn't blame him. Bones could say he was fine but that would be a lie, the biggest one with bells on it and Jim would say he was alright too. And neither one would believe the other.

Belief itself, in anything, was a lie.

Jim seemed to think about what to do with a quiet thoughtfulness and Bones couldn't read him and just when he thought maybe the Jim he read too many times was gone, the young man slid down the wall beside the older man until their shoulders touched lightly.

The steady beat of the heart monitor from inside grounded Bones, it kept him from drifting of inside his own muddled mind but then Jims long, pale fingers grasped nimbly around Leonards own hand and stayed there.

But Leonard knew better that to let something so _small_ ignite the bead of hope inside his chest.

Uhura was stood in the far, left hand corner of the room, about two metres away from the bed and she balanced spryly on the balls of her feet, rolling back and forth, swaying with the gentle movement of the starship that she shouldn't have been able to feel.

Jim could feel them too. The rocking, the pulsing beneath the metal flooring and it made him feel sick. Sick like the ship itself was running and he was trapped inside, being thrown backwards and forwards and sideways into the walls and he couldn't hold out his hands and break the fall.

And he would _always_ fall.

She still had traces of blood under her nails. Either Nurse Chapel's blood or her own from where she'd been scratching at the raw skin of her arms. Jim vaguely noticed the way her hair tumbled down her back, knotted at the ends and slightly damp, like she'd been chewing at it. He remembered a girl in his kindergarten that used to do that. She never really had many friends, that girl. But Uhura, she was different. She was friendly to everyone; even Jim on rare occasions at the academy when he'd argued with Bones and was left sat in the hallway, alone.

Faded sapphires eyes met dim mocha ones and realised nothing. They both knew. They didn't suddenly connect and fall weeping into each other's arms, suddenly not quite so lonely anymore because they remembered that the other had been there too. It didn't help, knowing that.

"They said this would happen."

Jim's voice was barely above a quiet whisper, but Uhura heard. She picked absently at her chipped nails, the familiar sting taking at least some of the _real_ pain away, if only for a moment.

Jim was only talking because Chris told him too. He didn't see the point, the need for it. They were just words, after all. What could words do? Nothing except tell both Uhura and he and Cupcake and the rest of them what they already knew. Things were going just as expected.

"I could have killed Bones. I _wanted_ too." Jim emphasised that word a little, his lips bearing back in small snarl. "Before that, I felt nothing. None of…this mattered anymore."

"Why are you here, captain?" It was the first time she'd spoken to anyone directly in days and her throat felt tight and raw, her tongue unused to movement of words.

Jim was surprised at his own calmness and scared by it. It was the eye of the storm. He'd feel okay…a little….empty perhaps, but okay. And then it'd come. The feelings, so strong, so violent, he'd nearly collapse from the pure force of it and from then on, he would be _controlled_ by it. The anger wasn't the worst (the passivity made sure he didn't care how he'd hurt Bones) but the fear? That was overwhelming. That made him feel like _nothing_. Something not worth saving or wanting to be saved because he was too scared to face it again.

_It was just Jim in the cell. The others were gone. He didn't know where and he didn't have enough physical strength to get up and demand his friends release or at least find out what the Su'ille were doing to them. He lay sprawled, awkwardly across the floor, his broken arm folded underneath his split torso, his fingertips turning blue from the cold. He could feel the blood running down his face, down his back but it was warm, so he didn't mind too much._

_And then , for the first time since he woke up from that black oblivion he yearned for, he saw that he wasn't alone. Uhura was crouched in one of the corners, curled tightly in on herself like she was trying to hide away from sight. With a brief flicker of recognition in his eyes, Jim dragged himself up onto one elbow to get a better look at her._

_She looked as bad as he did._

_Perhaps worse._

"_Uhura, are you-"_

"_I'd never broken a bone before." Her voice was tiny._

_Jim swallowed thickly._

"_At first, it hurt…..but I can't feel anything anymore."_

Then Uhura was laughing, giggling and spluttering with mirth and she buckled over, hands on her knees, her frail body quaking. Jim found himself smiling, wider and wider until he looked like a jacko-lantern with a grin too big for his face and one that looked so real and yet so false at the same time. They didn't know why they were laughing or even understand how they could, but then they couldn't stop because it was all so _funny._

It was funny how they all fell to pieces and crumbled to dust so quickly. Humans really weren't very resilient at all. They were nothing. Just weak, pitiful creatures huddling in the last remnants of the light, clinging onto each other because there was nothing else left.

And then, one little nudge, one little push sent them spiralling, falling into the pits of Hell and all that dwelled there. Perhaps he, and Uhura, were already there. Already burning, already lost in the torment and the anguish and pure _nightmare _that was the abyss.

Perdition had found Uhura and Jim, it had its claws sunk firmly into their ashen skin and while it hurt more than anything else should have been able to hurt….

Still, they laughed.

Because it was all rather funny in the end, wasn't it?

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><p><em>"I'm old enough to know that a longer life isn't always a better one. In the end you just get tired. Tired of the struggle. Tired of losing everyone that matters to you. Tired of watching everything…. turn to dust. If you live long enough, the only certainty left is that you'll end up alone." - David Tennant, Doctor Who.<em>

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><p>Please Review!<p> 


	9. The Worst Of All Evils

**Author note**: This isn't my best chapter, but I thought it was best to at least post something.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I'm just an adolescent girl with too much time on her hands.

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><p><em>"Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of man."- Friedrich Nietzsche<em>

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><p>And then there was silence. A long silence, during which everyone stopped. Everybody, every life form aboard the ship just paused and inhaled sharply, yet not one person knew why. They'd been fine, going about their jobs and then suddenly, something was <em>wrong<em>.

It was a feeling. A moment where the entire universe seemed out of sync, just existing but not living and it was enough to stop Jim's and Nyota's hysterical laughter so they too fell into that quiet, frightening void that the rest of the ship had fallen into .

There were no shared glances or murmured whispers because each person shook off the feeling of sorrow and pain and _loss_ and just continued. Almost everyone.

There were a certain few, to whom that silence signalled the end of the life that was slowly, but surely, tumbling down around them, leaving a dusty, burning crater of devastation that they would someday have to fix. But not that day. Not any day soon.

No one knew what caused the silence and yet, they _all_ knew, somewhere, deep down.

Nurse Christine Arabella Chapel, aged thirty-seven years, two months, fourteen days, three minutes and forty-six seconds, was dead.

And from within the silence, there was the sound of crying.

"Dead? She's not dead. Don't tell me that she's dead because she isn't! She can't be! She can't be _fucking_ dead! That's not right! That's not how it's supposed to be! She's not dead, so shut the _hell_ up, you bastard-"

"Leonard-"

"No, don't talk to me, don't even look at me! You're lying, you are. This is some sick, twisted joke and I'm telling you, when I'm finished with you-!"

"Doctor McCoy, please calm-"

"If you tell me to calm down one more time, buddy, I'll put your head through the-"

"I'm _so_ sorry, Leonard."

"Sorry?"

_Sorry?_ What use was that? Why did everyone say sorry, like it mattered, like it helped _anything_? It meant nothing. It meant nothing to Bones. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be. That stupid intern, he'd got it wrong, he'd made a mistake. Christine was fine. She was going to be absolutely fine and she'd wake up and smile and laugh that laugh of hers and then Jim would recover and life was go on as normal, go on like it did before.

Bones felt disconnected, almost. The screeches from his own mouth, he barely registered them, like it wasn't him crying and spitting in the corridor and while the world looked normal, it wasn't real to Bones. There was no way the universe could ever look right if Nurse Christine Chapel wasn't in it. Life would never be _life _without her and it hurt Bones, it hurt him more than words or tears and nightmares could ever explain. She wasn't dead.

If she was dead, then why was he still alive?

"Shhh….it's okay….it's alright, Len…."

The floor was cold beneath his palms, sterile and his arms, his legs wouldn't support his weight any more. Strong hands caught him beneath the shoulders, held up from the ground because he didn't want to hold himself and they dragged him out of plain sight, away from the stares and the pitiful looks.

But he couldn't stop crying.

If he did, if he stopped screaming, then he'd have to think. He'd have to accept that she was _gone_. That she was _never_ coming back to him.

And the worse part of it all was that he never told her just how much he loved her.

And now, he never would.

"Jim." Christopher Pike had wiped away the stray tear from his cheek when it had first appeared there. He had to stay strong, composed. It's not that he knew Nurse Chapel well, though her death was tragic in every way, it was the fact this was all because of what happened to Jim and Nyota and the others. The others, who were more like mummified shells with a faint pulse, had been placed into the same room and Spock had been quick to protest at Uhura being put in there too. He never said out loud that she might hurt someone else, but it was there, in the undertones of his blank expression.

She had killed Nurse Chapel, after all.

She was a _murderer._

The Su'ille had done that to her.

"Jim, it's time to leave." He took the boys wrist and pulled him back, away from Uhura in what seemed like a swift movement. He found himself unable to look at her because of what she'd done and although he knew it wasn't her fault, the same way nothing was Jim's fault, he still just couldn't handle it. Not at that moment.

Jim walked normally with no protests at being led back through medical bay like a child with his hand in his fathers, or at least, the closest he'd ever had to one.

"What's happened, Chris?"

Even in his state, Jim could feel the weight in the air. He could read every doctor and nurse in that ward and they were all screaming misery. It wasn't the kind of misery he was feeling, however. It was something else entirely. Something worse, something you couldn't come back from in a lot of ways.

Chris tightened his grip of Jim's hand, but said nothing, so Jim dug his heels into the floor and glared with more emotion than he'd shown in a long time. For a few brief minutes, the lives of everyone else mattered a tiny bit. A _tiny_ bit.

Pike moved his hand to the back of Jims neck and took a steadying breath.

"It's Nurse Chapel, she's-"

"Dead."

Jim finished the sentence for him, the word meaning nothing from his lips.

"Yeh. About ten minutes ago."

"Hm."

And that was the only response he gave. Chris watched with a bleak down turn of his lips as Jim turned his focus to the floor and the Admiral looked over at the brunette Nurse Beasley, who tidied away the already tidy shelving unit in the background.

"Where's Leonard?" He found himself asking, knowing just how much the middle aged doctor would be hurting.

"In his dorm. We had to give him a sedative." Her voice quivered, her bottom lip trembled and she turned away, back rising and falling rapidly because she wasn't going to cry again.

But like everyone else, the tears just wouldn't stay away.

"Come on, Jim."

They left medical bay, barely noticing the odd stillness of the corridor, usually full of the hustle and bustle of the crew. It was deserted, mostly, as by that point, Christine's death had been officially announced and the crew were allowed an hour of mourning, before it was back to work as if nothing had happened at all.

"_Hush little baby….don't say a word…." None of humans looked up as Jim sang, softly, delicately under his breath, the lyrics shaking as he shivered in the sudden chill of the cell, "Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird…"_

_He wasn't sure why he was singing. He told himself it was to help Queenie, who whimpered repeatedly to herself, her bruised body quaking with hitched breaths and Jim had taken up residence next to the older woman, one scratched hand upon her head. But maybe by singing a song that meant little to him, he could pretend he was somewhere, someone else. It made a difference to Queenie at least. He'd heard her hum during her work many times before and a good Captain would have acknowledged it and then forgotten. But not Jim. _

_Besides, no one had ever sung to him._

"_And if that Mockingbird won't sing, Momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring…And if-"_

"_Can you stop singing?" _

_Azeri was by the cell door, black eyebrows knotted. It occurred to Jim that Azeri wasn't hurt or injured in the slightest, beside a graze beneath his left eye, but Jim was too tired to wonder why that was. Perhaps the Su'ille just hadn't got around to him yet._

"_Why?" Jim asked, bluntly._

"_Because you're annoying me." Azeri growled, shooting daggers with his eyes even though he was the best off out of them all. Jim clenched his jaw (which hurt) and continued running his fingers through Queenies matted hair, in some vain attempt at quiet her cries. "Tell her to shut up too."_

_Jim glared through the darkness at the other man, who must've been about Jim's own age. Azeri Lincoln. He was known for his hot temper and lack of patience but the captain hadn't ever seen him talk so coldly, so callously._

"_What the hell is wrong with you, Lincoln?" Jim hissed, weakly, but with enough venom to make Azeri flinch briefly._

"_What's wrong with me?" Azeri made out like he was going to say something else, but then he stopped himself, thinking better of it._

"_They haven't even touched you yet."_

"_They're not gonna, neither."_

_Jim blinked slowly, cocking his head to the side. "You can't stop them."_

"_I don't need too, Captain. They're gonna leave me alone."_

"_Why would they?" Jim sighed and leaned his head back against the grimy wall, wincing as his hair got stuck to something unnameable._

_Azeri shrugged, his eyes darting suspiciously around the cell and he pulled his coat tighter around his body, signalling the end of that conversation. _

"_Why would they, Azeri?" But Jim was interested now. "Why would they leave you alone?"_

_Jim could actually see the man's face screw up in concentration as he came up with some kind of lie to cover his tracks and the Captain found his heart beating a little faster, "because-"_

"_Because he made a deal."_

_James Kirk hesitated and looked over at the other man who'd interrupted the conversation. Dean was gazing at Azeri blankly, his nose broken and bent out of shape. Jim hated not knowing what was going on. _

"_What?"_

"_A deal, Jim." Dean ran his nail over the ground, leaving long, white marks. "If they left Azeri alone, then he'd give them more humans to experiment with."_

"_You're joking. He wouldn't do that, he's no traitor." But you could see the doubt in Cupcakes eyes as everyone, including Queenie, looked over at Azeri Lincoln, who suddenly looked very scared._

_The look in his eyes said it all._

_Cupcake lunged with more strength than what should have been possible for a man with his injuries and it took everything Jim had to hold the bigger man back and away from Azeri. _

"_I had to do it! I had to-__"_

_"You gutless coward!"_

_"I'm not a traitor! I was pretending! I wasn't really going to do it!"_

"_You betrayed us, Azeri. You betrayed your race!"_

"_How does it __**feel**__, humans?" He came out of nowhere, the leader of the Su'ille and that frightened them. How could something so big, so dominating, glide into a room like he was nothing more than a shadow?_

_All previous arguments forgotten, Cupcake released Azeri and they all backed slowly away, except Queenie and Uhura, who were dragged by the others. Jim stood as tall as his protesting muscles would allow, his face set, his chin held high. He had to at least look confident, even if he felt nothing of the sort._

"_This is even more interesting than I expected. Pain, that's one thing, but the knowledge that one of your comrades sold you out, well, that's something else entirely. Maleke!"_

_Maleke swept in through the open door, grey scaly skin glistening in the lamp light._

"_Yes, master?"_

"_Take that one." He pointed towards Uhura. "Commence phase six. Those two-" a gesture towards Cupcake and Azeri, who had his eyes screwed tightly shut, "take them to the vaults. You know what to do. And James?"_

_Jim subconsciously drifted towards Uhura, who despite her state realised something terrible was about to happen and scrabbled to her unsteady feet. "No, take me instead of her."_

_But Jim didn't feel brave._

"_Courage? That's an interesting one." The master grinned a sickly grin. "Maleke?"_

"_Yes, master?"_

"_Take them both."_

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><p><em>"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."-Kurt Vonnegut.<em>

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><p><em><strong>Sorry if this doesn't clear much up, but please review and tell me what you think and any possible ideas for the next chapterchapters.**_


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